


What Comes our Way

by claudinedelyon



Series: Translator AU [7]
Category: SKAM (Italy)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Baby-sitting, Kid Fic, M/M, as most things in life the answer is not straightforward, it's just a little part of the conversation because these things take time, mentions of BPD, the "should we have kids?" talk, translator AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-10-20 18:01:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20679587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/claudinedelyon/pseuds/claudinedelyon
Summary: “So, you want to have kids?”Martino looks up from his plate. He had figured the conversation was being tabled for the moment and wasn’t expecting Nico to bring it up again. He should probably have known better.





	What Comes our Way

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Opening Up (Finale) from _Waitress_.  
_Opening up_  
_Into a new day_  
_Open to love_  
_Isn’t it amazing what comes our way_

A frustrated groan draws Martino’s attention away from observing Gaia, who is sitting on the old sheet they set up under a tree and entertaining herself by banging toys together, to where Noemi is playing badminton with Niccolò. Neither of them are very good and in addition, his half-sister is a sore loser, an unfortunate Rametta trait she has inherited, so there is no telling how long the game is going to last before one or the other gives up.

Still, there are worse ways to spend a peaceful June afternoon than lying in the grass with his three favorite people. Or at least with the man of his life and his two favorite under-twelve-year-olds.

When he looks back to Gaia, she is staring at him, holding a toy car in one hand and a plastic tomato in the other. He gives her a smile but keeps a wary eye on her hands, having found out the hard way that having your face within reach of Gaia’s toys could end painfully.

Instead of using him for target practice, she just starts babbling, spewing seemingly random syllables with the confidence of a politician delivering a speech based on very little fact.

“I know,” Martino replies when she pauses in her soliloquy. “He is so bad at it and getting his ass kicked by an eleven-year-old. It’s embarrassing, really.”

“I am right here,” Niccolò points out as Noemi turns around to pick up the shuttlecock that has landed a few feet behind her.

“Hey, I’m only agreeing. She started it.”

Nico shakes his head. “And you’re blaming it on a baby, shame on you, Marti. I’m just trying to teach her about sportsmanship. It doesn’t have to be a competition, people can just play for fun.”

“Right, that’s what this is.”

Noemi, having thrown the shuttlecock towards Niccolò to draw his attention, only for it to land at his feet, steps closer and pokes him with her racquet when he doesn’t react. She signs impatiently that it’s his turn to serve, so he apologizes and goes back to playing.

It takes them about ten more minutes of slow progress to decide they’ve had enough and join Martino and Gaia. Noemi drops down on her back and buries herself in the book she brought along while Niccolò sits down and leans against Martino’s folded legs.

Having followed their arrival with interest, Gaia then crawls towards Nico until she can sit in front of him and takes to playing drums on his thigh. He offers his hands instead, palms turned upwards, and she gives him a gleeful look before slapping his hands down with all the strength she can muster. At 8 months old, strength is not her best asset, but her enthusiasm more than makes up for it, and Nico winces.

“You ever thought about having kids?” The question slips out as soon as it crosses Martino’s mind and before he can really think about it.

Oddly enough, they haven’t really talked about it yet, or only abstractly, a passing, vague notion, when people around them started having babies and asking if they ever planned on following suit. Martino knows Nico loves kids, either their friends’ or his cousins’, but he has no idea how he feels about having any. He doesn’t even mean that much by the question, he just figures it’s a conversation that is bound to happen at some point. And now seems like a relevant, if not quite appropriate, time.

Niccolò doesn’t say anything at first, just lets Gaia keep playing, a thoughtful look on his face.

“Have you?” He eventually replies.

Martino glances between the two girls, one amusing herself by alternating clapping her hands and Nico’s, and the other lying on her back and holding her book over her head, squinting against the sunlight.

“I didn’t use to, but now, with you, and I guess since she was born,” he nods towards Gaia who has suddenly lost interest and is turning towards Noemi, “sure, sometimes.”

They watch as Gaia's right hand lands on a cardboard book at a wrong angle which sends the book slipping and her faceplanting into a pile of plastic fruit. For a fraction of a second, they hold their breaths as she looks around her in stunned silence and then dissolves into tears. Martino sits up, but Niccolò is closer and he picks her up to see if she’s hurt. The commotion finally draws a surprised Noemi out of her book.

Once they’ve made sure she’s fine and that the crying was probably more out of surprise and maybe embarrassment, if eight-month-olds can feel embarrassment, than pain, Martino checks his phone for the time.

“Hey, you think we ought to get back? She’s probably going to get hungry soon.”

Niccolò looks around them, at other families who have started rounding up kids, strollers and ludicrous amounts of toys, then at Gaia’s tear-streaked face.

“Probably, yes. And we’ve got a lot of stuff to pick up.”

He entrusts the still whining baby to Noemi, who takes it upon herself to point at things around them and show her the corresponding signs to distract her while the grown-ups pick up everything that’s been scattered around. By the time they’re ready to go, she’s calm enough and looking intently between Noemi’s hands and her own, as if she wanted to imitate her but couldn’t quite manage it.

They split up so Niccolò can walk Gaia back to her parents’, who have gone to a wedding outside of town and will be back later that night, while Martino takes Noemi home.

When he gets back to Gio and Eva’s flat, Martino finds Gaia in her high chair, beginning to fuss as Nico tries to get her to finish a jar of baby food. Luckily, the new arrival is enough to distract her into finishing her dinner without too much trouble.

Once she’s finally settled in bed, the baby monitor sat on the kitchen table following the strict instructions left by her parents, they can finally have their own dinner and the homemade risotto that was left for them.

While they enjoy the closest thing they have had to quiet all day, through the monitor, Gaia is still chattering to herself in a high-pitched voice, and Niccolò huffs a laughs at the sound.

“She never stops, does she?”

“She’s Eva's daughter alright,” Martino replies with a grin.

They stay silent for a few more minutes before Niccolò puts down his fork.

“So, you want to have kids?”

Martino looks up from his plate. He had figured the conversation was being tabled for the moment and wasn’t expecting Nico to bring it up again. He should probably have known better.

“No, I didn’t say that.” He points out, tapping his knife against the table to underline his words. “I just figured we’ve never really talked about it.”

“But you do, right?”

Martino puts down his fork as well, he won’t be able to focus on the conversation and the food, no matter how good it is.

“Like I said, I’ve just been thinking about it and sort of trying to weigh the pros and cons, but I’m not really getting anywhere.”

“The pros and cons?”

“Yes. Or, well, the cons mostly, because the pros are hard to really quantify and mostly abstract.”

“Okay, what are the cons, then?”

The risotto is going to get cold, but he's started this and he's not going to let the occasion slip away.

“First, we’d have to move,” he starts listing, sitting up to prepare for what could take a while. “And there’s no way we can afford something bigger so close to the center, so that’d mean living further away.”

Nico nods. Neither of them are very keen on moving to the outskirts of town. It had already limited their search for an apartment, but trying to find anything bigger would mean considering neighborhoods they had crossed off. Maybe even leaving Rome.

“There’s also work. If I wanted to start freelancing next year like we talked about, finding clients and talking to the studios is going to take a lot of time. And that means only one fixed salary for a while. And no fixed hours. Plus, we’d have to look abroad for adoption or surrogacy, so that’s also a lot of time and money.”

Nico nods again, rubbing his thumb along the rim of his glass. "Those are all very practical.”

“I know,” Martino sighs. “But it is a very practical decision. And none of them are deal breakers, obviously. I can keep my job if it’s just about time and money. It’s not the worst place to work,” he adds with a smile.

“But you wanted to work on more fiction.”

“That can wait. And I’d miss it if I couldn’t hear a bunch of old men talk about rocks every few months.” When Nico doesn’t say anything else, he asks, “What about you? Have you thought about it?”

Something flickers across Nico’s face, almost a wince, before he answers.

“Never seriously. Maddi and I kinda talked about it. Or she did, mostly. But we were in college and she had years ahead of her before she got her MD, so it was never an actual plan. And then she got that job in Munich, and we broke up, so...”

“And now?”

Nico is staring at his plate and he looks like he could be psyching himself up. Martino is starting to regret bringing it up again.

“Honestly, I don’t know if I can be a dad, Marti.” His voice is quiet, but clear enough that there is no doubt about what he said.

“Why not?”

The question makes Nico look up but it’s only to give him a look. “You know why.”

He does know why and was suspecting Nico’s concerns regarding his disorder was what made him reluctant to broach the topic. Martino’s become more familiarized with the workings of BPD, but there’s still a lot he doesn’t know, so he isn't sure what exactly is on Nico's mind.

“Right. But when you were going to group therapy, weren’t there people who had children? I think you mentioned that.”

“Yes, two of them had kids,” Niccolò replies. There is still some reluctance in his tone, but as long as he’s talking about it, Martino knows he can push the subject a little further.

“And did you ever talk about it with them?”

“Not directly, but it came up of course.” Niccolò pauses to scratch his upper lip in a nervous gesture. “And some days, it sounded really tough.”

“Tough how exactly?”

“I don’t know. I think one said it had been really hard connecting with her baby at first, feeling like he was hers and making herself play with him. And when the kids grew up, they had a rough time setting stable boundaries, both for themselves and for the kids.”

Still fiddling with his knife, Martino tries to consider everything he has learned from Nico himself and from other sources in the context of parenting a child. Although, as far as Martino is aware, Nico has been managing his disorder pretty well for the three years they’ve been together, he also knows that he worries about how quickly things could change. Some of the things Nico sometimes struggles with could make raising a child harder for all of them and the responsibility could definitely weigh on him. Before he can say anything, Nico speaks again.

“And what if…” He interrupts himself and slouches slightly in his chair.

“What if?” Martino prompts encouragingly.

“What if we break up? Or you’re not around. I can’t take care of a kid by myself.”

Martino glances towards the high chair that stands by the table.

“I mean, you did today.”

Having followed his glance, Niccolò then looks back at him.

“That’s different, it was one hour, once.”

“Still, it went well, right?”

“That doesn’t mean anything. What if work gets stressful or I’m tired or something happens and I’m alone with them? Do you think I could deal with that?” He sounds a little desperate, and Martino swallows, knowing that he can’t give him the confident answer he may be hoping for.

“I think so, but only you can really know that, Ni.”

They contemplate the cold risotto in their plates in silence for a moment before Niccolò speaks again.

“I never really thought about it because I just took it for granted that it would never be for me.” Martino hums understandingly. He’s not sure they’re going to get much further on the topic tonight, especially as having this conversation in Gio and Eva’s home is beginning to feel out of place.

At least, they’ve both aired their concerns, different as they may be, and they have a starting place that can lead them to an informed decision. Nico continues, “But if you do want to have kids, I don't want to…”

He trails off, and Martino doesn’t want to leave the idea that Nico might somehow be keeping him from his dream of a big family hanging between them.

“Really, that’s not what I was saying. I don’t need to have kids. I was just thinking about it, that’s all. I like the way things are, and everything I need, I’ve already got it. I've got you,” he adds, emphasizing the last word and hoping it might assuage some of Nico's doubts.

It seems to work as Niccolò sits up straighter and pushes his plate away to rest his arms on the table, a hint of relief to the small smile that is tugging at his lips.

“Either way, we don’t have to decide today,” Martino continues. “There’s no rush and there’s no pressure. We can think about it, and if you don’t want kids, I’m fine with that. There’s enough people with kids around us who are desperate for free babysitters. I don’t even know why people keep saying the fertility rate is dropping, everybody we know is reproducing. We can just spoil them rotten and be everybody’s favorite godfathers. That’s not the worst deal. It would still be expensive, but you know, with far fewer responsibilities. Whatever we decide, we’ll do it together. And you’ll always come first.”

The smile on Nico’s face grows softer and he tilts his head to the side. “You, too.”

Pierre the cat had on several occasions while he was staying with them already shown great timing in his appearances. Having sneaked into the kitchen during the conversation, he now takes the opportunity to wrap himself around Martino’s leg and meow from under the table to beg for some attention.

“But we could get a cat for a start,” Martino suggests, leaning to the side to pet him.

“I knew you missed having him around,” Nico replies, a triumphant accent in his voice.

“Maybe a little. He’s a bit of a diva, but he was nice company.”

“And what about a giraffe?” Nico suggests, bearing the same expression as when he had once come into Martino’s office to make fun of his punctuation.

“And where in Rome do you think we’d ever find a place big enough for a giraffe?”

Nico pouts in mock disappointment and the heaviness that had been hanging in the air starts clearing. Still hungry and not ready to completely give up on his dinner, Martino takes both their plates to the microwave to warm them up. A whimper comes through the baby monitor and Martino reflexively turns towards the hallway leading to the bedrooms. When he looks back at Nico, he finds him biting back a grin.

“You know you’re not supposed to go every time she makes a noise, right?”

“I know. But it’s my godfather privilege, I spoil her, and then I don’t have to deal with the consequences. I told you,  _ far  _ fewer responsibilities.” With a laugh, Nico grabs the bottle on the table to pour them both water. As he does so Martino catches a glimpse on the ring on his left hand. “Anyway, the first thing on the agenda is that we’ve still got a whole wedding to plan.”

“Right, and whose fault is that?” Nico shoots back.

“Hey, you said yes.”

“Like I could ever say no to you.”

Martino turns around to look at him while the food heats up. In the comfortable silence of the next few minutes, Martino is filled with the conviction that, although they don’t know yet how things will turn out and what to expect from the next few years, children or no, cats or giraffes, they don’t have to worry about the outcome, as long as they work at it hand in hand.

The ding of the microwave draws him from his thoughts. He picks up the plates and places Nico’s back in front of him.

“Do you think we could get away with inviting just a few people and not making it into a huge deal?”

Niccolò shakes his head. “With my best man and his sister and your best man and his wife? No way.”

“I hadn’t thought of that. Maybe I should have asked Luca instead of Gio.”

Nico almost chokes on the water he had been about to drink.

“Do you seriously believe Luca wouldn’t have been ten times worse than Gio?” He asks, wiping away the drops of water that have fallen on the table.

“Yeah, no, I take it back,” Martino laughs. “Hey, if we do have a kid one day, he could be godfather then.” Even if he could not read every single one of Nico’s looks in a heartbeat, it wouldn’t be that hard to figure out what the one he receives in answer means.

By the table, Pierre lets out a pathetic meow in the hope that they will spare a few scraps of the food whose perfume is now wafting through the kitchen. Martino looks down at him, then back at Nico.

“How about the cat? Cats can have godfathers, right?”

At the suggestion, Nico’s face lights up.

“Oh, my God, and he’d love that.”

Martino raises his glass, and they toast the fact that, although they may not have made much headway on other topics, that's at least one decision taken care of.

**Author's Note:**

> Just to be clear, I’m not implying people with BPD can’t have kids or be good parents. I’m just saying that I think Nico specifically would worry about his own ability to parent.  
That being said, I'm still not an expert on BPD and relying on my own research, so feel free to call me out on anything offensive or blatantly wrong.


End file.
